#i struggle to take care of myself all the time

[moonandstarshyuck]

"Always."

lando norris x gn!bf!reader

notes: I haven’t written since 2019, so bear with me. I’ve found myself thinking about a little blurb for Lando recently (actually a lot of ideas, but this one is sticking with me more than the others at the moment).

For some context, Lando’s been receiving a huge amount of hate online (and in-person) recently. I haven’t been a fan for that long—I got into F1 this summer, in 2024—but I’ve grown to care about him. I was there for Lando losing the championship, and while I think we all knew it would come to this (Max winning felt inevitable) but I’m proud of Lando for pushing so hard this entire year.

Still, with all the hate directed at him, I’m seeing a new side of him, and I’m learning that he’s a person with feelings like anyone else. I can tell he doesn’t always have the highest opinion of himself and tends to take the blame for anything that goes wrong during his races. What struck me about this is how much I relate to it. I blame myself for things out of my control or when I mess up. What sucks with Lando is that his small, human errors are what so many people focus on to criticize him—whether it’s why he didn’t win the championship or why they think he’s a bad person (which he absolutely isn’t).

The inspiration for this came from an interview he did after the Brazilian GP. At that point, everyone knew it was almost mathematically impossible for Lando to win the championship, and he talked about struggling in the aftermath: “I literally couldn’t sleep for the first two days…So I did like, what, 36-40 hours straight. So that probably made everything worse. When you’re tired, you’re more moody, and that kind of thing…I was just sat at home alone. It probably would have been better if I had been with my friends. But they don’t live in Monaco. They also have lives and are busy doing other things. And I’m a big overthinker, so like the whole flight home, the whole week, it just played over and over in my head. What could I have done differently? Why did I do that? Why did I not do this? You start thinking of all the scenarios that you kind of blame yourself for, why it’s now not possible, that kind of thing. And yeah, because I overthink and I struggle with that kind of thing, that took a bigger toll in the days after. It wasn’t an easy time.”

And I keep on finding myself wishing someone could have been there for him in person, so that he was okay. So, I wrote this. The reader in this is dating Lando but is written as a gender-neutral character that uses They/Them pronouns. The reader also has a service dog, a Bernese Mountain Dog named Thunder, to help with their own depression and anxiety (I’m not an expert on service dogs, so this many not be 100% accurate).

They woke up that early morning to the sunlight shining on their face, streaming in from the window outside. The bliss of sleep clung to them as they lay there, cocooned in warmth, the covers snug around their body. They stretched lazily, blinking their eyes open.

Instinctively, they turned to look beside them—only to find the space next to them empty. It’s too early in the morning to be anywhere else but in bed, even for training, they thought. Lando should still be here.

The realization pulled them out of their sleepy haze. The past couple of days had been not kind to Lando. They knew that he had a tendency to keep his feelings bottled up and beat himself up over his perceived failures. They understood that feeling all too well—the guilt, the constant sense of disappointment, the nagging thought that were never good enough. They had wrestled with those feelings since they were a child.

It wasn’t something that had an easy fix. If they had found the answer, they would have shared it with Lando years ago. But they had learned that the best way to fight those thoughts wasn’t isolation. Talking to someone, writing feelings down, even simple positive affirmations—thought they might sound silly—could help push back against the negative spiral. They had told Lando this countless times.

But Lando had a problem with not wanting to “inconvenience” anyone with his emotions. No matter how many times they reassured him that they were always there for him, he struggled to let himself. They didn’t blame him—it was human to struggle against your own mind.

What made everything worse was the constant online hate. Every little mistake or sarcastic comment from Lando seemed to turn into an avalanche of criticism. They remembered the first time they’d seen him like a hateful comment about himself on Instagram—the little heart next to a cruel statement, paired with note: “Creator liked this.” It had broken their heart. How could the Lando they loved ever believe such awful things about himself?

After Brazil, it had been clear that he wasn’t okay. He’d barely spoken since coming home, choosing instead to himself. They had given him space, hoping he’d find a way to process his feelings. But by the second morning, when he still hadn’t come to bed—almost forty hours after returning home—they knew they couldn’t stand by any longer.

That morning, they rose slowly from the bed, a plan beginning to form in their mind. Lanod needed someone to step in—someone to remind him he didn’t have to face his struggles alone. They were determined to be that person for him.  They couldn’t take it anymore, seeing the person they loved so badly, punishing himself over his ‘failures.’

The first step was to confirm where he was. Grabbing their phone, they opened Twitch and navigated to Max’s stream. After a few moments of watching, they heard Lando’s voice—tired, strained, but unmistakably his. He was joking with Max, his words clipped, like he was holding himself together with sheer willpower. It was enough to break their heart. They opened their messages with Max.

Thunder's Owner

Lan’s streaming with you rn?

Sent at 7:48 AM.

After a few seconds, Max replied.

Maximilian

Yeah he’s on voice-only.

Sent at 7:50 AM.

Gonna do something about him?

Sent at 7:50 AM.

Max knew. Of course he did. He probably heard the exhaustion in Lando’s voice, the edge self-loathing that came with overthinking. They typed back quickly:

Thunder's Owner

Yeah

Sent 7:52 AM.

Going to unplug his setup and drag him out of there.

Sent 7:52 AM.

Maximilian

Lol.

Sent 7:52 AM.

I’ll keep an eye out for when he disappears.

Sent 7:53 AM.

Thunder's Owner

Thx

Sent 7:54 AM.

They quietly made their way to Lando’s gaming room and eased the door open. Lando sat at his desk, controller in hand, headset clamped over messy curls.  He looked worn down, his shoulders slumped as he focused on the screen. His voice through, muted put playful, as he bantered with Max.

For a moment, they just watched him. Even now, he was handsome, but the tiredness in his expression made their chest ache. He deserved rest. He deserved to feel okay. And he wasn’t going to get that by sitting here punishing himself.

As soon as Lando died in-game and leaned back in his chair, they seized the opportunity. They crossed the room, catching his attention when they came into view.

“Why’re you—” Lando began, frowning, but they didn’t let him finish. Reaching down, they unplugged everything from the wall.

“What the hell—” he exclaimed, spinning around in his chair.

“No,” they said firmly, cutting him off. “I’m not you hurt yourself anymore. Get up.”

Lando blinked, clearly taken aback. “You can’t just do that!” he protested, but they were already tugging gently at him arm, urging him out of his chair.

“Angel, what are you—”

“No,” they repeated, their voice steady. “Get up,”

Lando hesitated for a moment before letting out a resigned sigh and standing. They took his hand, leading him out of the gaming room and down the hall to the living room. He didn’t resist, but he followed like a man in a daze. Once they reached the couch, they turned to him. “Sit,” they said, pointing at the cushions. Lando raised an eyebrow, opening his mouth to argue, but they shook their head. “Stay.”

They turned to Thunder, who had been waiting for them in the hallway, and told him, “Thunder, guard,” while pointing at Lando.

The dog immediately moved into position, standing alert in front of the couch. Lando’s eyes widened slightly as Thunder fixed him with an unblinking stare. He shifted as if to get up, but Thunder’s stance didn’t waver.

“Jeez, I wasn’t going to get up,” he mumbled to Thunder, but Thunder just sat there and watched him until he fully relaxed back into the couch.

The thought ran through Lando’s head, how he had honestly forgotten how menacing his own dog could look. He knew Thunder was trained, saw reminders of it daily with how he interacted with his partner, but he was still shocked at how trained Thunder really was at that moment.

Thunder was still staring at him when he pulled out his phone from his pocket, opening up his texts with Max.

LN

I was just dragged out of my gaming room and told to sit on the couch and like a dog.

Sent at 8:05 AM.

Not against it, but how tf did they get so determined?

Sent at 8:05 AM.

Thunder’s watching me right now.

Sent at 8:06 AM.

I forgot how menacing he could be.

Sent at 8:06 AM.

*Picture attached.*

Lol.

Sent at 8:06 AM.

Max (The 1st One)

He’s like ‘try me, I dare you’

Sent at 8:06 AM.

LN

Yeah, I don’t particularly want to try him

Sent at 8:07 AM.

Max (The 1st One)

Lol.

Sent at 8:07 AM.

They told me before they did it

Sent at 8:07 AM.

I just let them. Lol.

Sent at 8:07 AM.

LN

Helpful. What if they were trying to  kill me?

Sent at 8:08 AM.

They wouldn’t have had to if you kept doing what you were doing.

Sent at 8:09 AM.

Lando’s let out a quiet sigh, Max’s words sinking in. He glanced at Thunder, who hadn’t moved, and felt a pang of guilt. He’d pushed himself too far again, and this time it had clearly worried his partner.

A few minutes later, his partner walked back into their living room. He thought they looked beautiful, wearing one of his old t-shirts and a pair of boxers. They were entirely focused on the bowl they were carrying, and only looked up when they got close enough to hand it to him. He gently took the bowl, looked into it and saw it was one of his prep meals. While not his favorite breakfast, he knew he just needed to eat first, so he started taking bites.

He glanced up every so often, and each time he did, his partner was just sitting there and watching him eat. Lando almost chuckled at his own thought that they looked just like Thunder when watching him, and he smiled into his bowl at the thought. His partner didn’t see his smile, but he continued to eat until he had finished the bowl.

When he was done eating, he set the bowl down, and his partner again pulled him up by the crook of his arm. He just let them do so, having a thought of what was going to happen next.

His partner led them both down the hallway to their bedroom, and opened the door, leading him to sit on their bed, then they turned around and went to close their blinds and draw their black-out curtains to cover up the sunlight from the window. They had turned on their bedside lamp earlier, and the soft orange glow of the lamp permeated the room. They walked past him again, going to close the door after letting Thunder in, then they walked back to their side of the bed, and pulled him to lie down against them.

As he settled against their chest, he felt a bit odd, it being a bit of a difference to feel how much he was loved by them. How much they cared for him. And he finally spoke again, “Thank you.”

“Always, Lan. Always.” They replied, pressing a kiss to his hair.

And for the first time in days, he let himself sleep.

author's note: got inspired to actually write something for once...ty @koalapastries for the inspiration (unknowing inspiration but ty) (also sorry for using your layout outline

comments & reblogs appreciated

and i made the dividers :)

[wosowffc]

NEW GUNNER

Part 1

Today is the freindly against England on home solid in Australia so at least I don't have to a lot of travel. I've been playing with the Matilda's for about 3 or 4 years moving up from the u21s, I keep to myself and get on with each day here just waiting for it to be over, I'm grateful don't get me wrong but I'm not a people person.

I wake up early as per usual blinding myself with another gorgeous aus sunrise, throw on clothes and head down to go a walk , I do this every day getting up 2 hours before everyone while at camp so I don't have to do anything with them like sit in the canteen, not that they mind they would rather put a fork in my eye that sit and chat with me.

As soon as I came into my first camp 2 girls tried to talk to me but were quick to be pulled away by people who have played me or played with me at club and told them what I was like but I don't care I'm better off alone. I'm sat on the beach with a take away morning oats from a local shop watching the waves crash against the rock and the crabs rush along to get on with their days. Soon enough the 3 hours which felt like 20 mins had passed and it was time to go back to get on the bus to the stadium.

They game was perfect we had england right where we wanted them and they were struggling to keep on us. Throughout I got my usual dose of hard aimed tackles and fouls to which I kept my calm, we'll, that was the case until bastard Beth mead drags me to the floor off ball and then when gets up fake falls over me kicking my in the side. Is she for real. I'm about to blow and I know it so I pull her back by her shirt when we both stand cause int her to fall and to end it I step on her arm.

She screamed at the action but I don't care it's just rage inside me took over I try to not let it happen really I do but , she got me booked when I didn't do anything, I'm definitely off now.

A red card is shown and I'm booed off which is fair ofc the fans won't be happy with the action. I take myself to my cubby grabbing some clothes and getting a shower and ordering your self a texi to the hotel, there's still a 20 mins and acutivity after before the bus goes and you don't want to deal with the girls not so early after.

You make your way to you room Back at the hotel putting on a tee and shorts. You share the room with the only person who had been nice to you, Katrina gorry, she was you mentor type person when you came in to the squad at 16. You lay on your bed looking at a dark, dark purple bruise forming on your side wincing slightly as you lay a hand in it. A while later the door opens you see the light glow on the wall your facing, a tear dripping down you cheek not wanting anyone to see.

"You alright" is all you hear felling her sit and the bottom of your bed. "Look at me" she says trying to get you to turn away from the wall which u do wiping ur cheeks.

"I didn't mean to boil over, I'm trying" you quietly let out. To which she gives a sympathetic look

"Her arm was broke , listen I know your trying but let others see that, get some sleep you've got a lot of travel tomorrow" she says giving ur arm a rub and getting into her own bed.

You don't want to look weak, your not weak. You have felt with everyone hating you for years already so who cares, not you. You hate national time, fans don't like you, teammates don't like you it's just all shit you love representing your country but who are you to represent anything your a worthless piece of crap. Tomorrow night you go back to your club, Chelsea, nobody likes you their either not since the moment you arived.

[herinsectreflection]

I have been struggling with whether or not to talk about why I've not been updating much lately. On one hand, I know I don't owe anybody anything. This is not my job, I do this for my own enjoyment and I am entitled to post as often or infrequently as I like. On the other hand, I am addicted to Explaining Things, that's why I'm planning to write 300k words about an old TV show I really like. So here, here are the reasons. I'm hoping that by writing them down my brain will stop latching onto them as sources of anxiety. 1) I got a job that I care about. I won't tell you what I do, but I will tell you that I work in a hospital. It takes a lot of mental energy, and unlike previous jobs, I no longer have the time or inclination to sneakily write essays in my downtime. Which sucks. I hate caring about the thing I'm paid for. It leaves less care for the things I'm not paid for.

2) Speaking of getting paid - I cancelled my ko-fi a few months ago. As much as I truly felt supported and humbled by the people who gave my money, I think it didn't help. Writing began to feel like something I owed the people who gave me money, rather than something I was doing because I wanted to.

3) I got into a polyamorous relationship. You ever tried to have free time while polyamorous? 'Nuff said.

4) I introduced one of my (then) partners to Buffy, and we ended up watching S3 while I was also trying to write about S3. I ended up oversaturated on S3. The most fun I had writing the earlier essays was when new ideas would hit me as I was watching. S3 doesn't feel as fresh to me, and so I don't feel eager to get to it.

5) In regards to S3, I've definitely been putting a lot of pressure on myself to say something particularly interesting and unique about it, since it is, you know, The Faith Season, and I have been branded The Faith Explainer. It's a lot of pressure for something that objectively does not matter at all. But that's anxiety disorders for you.

6) I have started new hobbies, new sports, and regular therapy. Which is all wonderful and has enriched my life, but it takes up free weekends rather quickly.

7) Speaking of therapy - you know that tweet that's like "I started new meds and now I'm not obsessed with BTS anymore"? There's a little of that going on I'm not going to lie.

8) Hyperfixations change and apparently I have not been fixating on Buffy for a little while. It's a lot easier to sink hours and hours into something when your brain has decided that that is all it wants to sink its time into.

9) I had major surgery 18 months ago and that has not not been a factor.

10) This post, I got three paragraphs into the Consequences essay and then decided to start Posting. I don't control these things.

11) ANXIETY

[cantareincminor]

Fandom Wrapped (Reader Edition) 2024!

Thanks to the wonderful @kattyelf for creating this template! Links and detailed reviews under the cut.

Disclaimer: I probably read hundreds of SxF fics in the past year, and it was not easy to choose which ones to put in the list above (or below)! This fandom is full of wonderful, friendly creators and I am so glad to be part of it. I also had to narrow it down to only the ones I read and reread in 2024, not 2022 or 2023. Finally...I also happened to read many good fics only once. Sometimes a fic is just too painful or sad to reread, especially if it's not finished.

Favorite fic and author: After peace by @unhappy-sometimes!

I could gush about unso for a whole post and not be done, but I will try to contain myself. Her fic After peace originated from an AU comic she drew where Twilight was forced to retire early due a major injury, and drifted aimlessly until WISE asked him to take care of an orphan they had rescued from Project Apple. There are several things that amazed me about this fic and cemented it in first place for 2024:

The premise. It was original and so full of potential.

How personal Twilight's journey felt to me. I didn't have a life-threatening injury, but I did put my career on hiatus in the past year and have often struggled with questions of -- what am I worth when I'm not "doing" anything? I was so used to going 150% in the rat race and coming out on top at great personal cost to health and family; even if all that was bad, how else can I get that sense of accomplishment? How can I stop wanting that sense of accomplishment?

Her style, which is both vivid AND concise. The fic was around 22K words if I remember correctly, with a well-constructed plot, character arcs, plenty of emotional beats, and a satisfying resolution. I often wonder if my writing is too verbose and when I see something like After peace, it challenges me to do better.

THIS WAS UNSO'S FIRST FIC EVER. THE HELL. It's like a freshman album that gets put up for a Grammy.

Fic(s) I reread (plus runners-up):

That Time Yor Seriously Thought About Leaving by peonydee: This is a WIP with one more chapter before completion, I believe. Peonydee's style is unique in how it's hard-hitting and disarming at the same time. Yor and Twilight find themselves in impossible situations, their relationship tested to the limit (and one of them in a close brush with death), yet there's still an undercurrent of wry humor, almost fatalistic due to the fact both of them have been steeped in death and dirty work for decades, yet still hopeful and reaching for each other. I also cackle every time she makes Twilight go off on a mansplaining tangent without ever using the term outright. A masterpiece of show not tell.

Is It Really All Right? by zyzy1083: This one is tender. A jealous!Loid fic with a fascinating portrayal of Loid from Yor's perspective. The imagery of a dark sea choking down any true thought or emotion from breaking for air will stay with me for a long time. There's also the fact she basically made up lyrics for an indie song as part of the plot and I had to ask whether it was a real song. Finally, there's the fact she was bold enough to portray Loid as less than a perfect, kind, smiley husband toward Yor, but in a believable way. He snaps at Yor at times. He loses his patience. It feels like a real relationship, in the awkward tension when one partner wants to talk and the other absolutely does not want to talk. I admire that courage and wish more authors would take that risk (calling myself out I guess!).

Green-eyed Monster by bigbruja: another jealous!Loid fic that's lighthearted and fun. This is a comfort reread. I enjoy seeing Loid recognize the threat of a supposed "old friend" of Yor's, questioning his own feelings and how far he needs to go to fend this guy off. The guy is a Garden assassin, unbeknownst to him. I also love Yor's own inner struggle of just wanting everyone to get along, but showing steel when she needs to.

dalliance by rosetintednerdglasses: this is a WIP, but it is HILARIOUS and I hope everyone will go encourage this author to pick this fic back up when they have a chance. TLDR, Twilight (in disguise) is sent on a joint mission with Thorn Princess and flips out internally when he sees it's Yor. Handler then orders him to ensure Thorn Princess continues to cooperate. So as Twilight, he has to sort-of honey trap Thorn Princess, while as Loid he has to keep Yor happy. Poor Yor believes she's torn between two different men and close to cheating on Loid! Situational hilarity all over the place, and fun world-building, like this other WISE agent randomly named "Steel Bunny" (LOL).

Not According to Plan by @kyrathel: love you girl! This is a gift fic for me, but that's not the reason I reread it (even though it's a WIP as well!). It's SO FUNNY. Twilight gets it in his overly anxious head that he MUST defend his wife from the bullies at City Hall, so what does he do? HE INFILTRATES CITY HALL AS A NEW FEMALE HIRE. The world absolutely needs more petty!Twilight! The latest chapter features laxative brownies. Enough said.

Let's start living dangerously by @beannoss: I specifically reread the later parts when dumb Twilight gets over his dumbness and finally talks to Yor! And they kiss again! I love the way huhwaku (beannoss) portrays overthinking Twilight AND overthinking Yor. And also, the simplicity of Yor at the same time. The voice she uses for both of them is refreshing, it really puts you in the mindset of the character. Yor's giggles ("teehee!") as she teases Twilight about his little perfectionist habits are a cute touch to a gentle, heartwarming fic about these two highly competent professionals just starting to take baby steps in how to be competent at a relationship.

Fic that made me emotional:

100% Perfect by @sometimesiship. Where do I begin? How about with the gut aversion I initially had to the premise of a futuristic AI dating bot AU, due to all the tragic, dark AI movies I have watched? But as it neared completion, someone convinced me to give it a try and I AM SO GLAD I DID. You can see my gushing comments in almost every chapter. The development of the relationship between human Yor and AI Loid is so natural, funny at times, poignant always, and beautifully written, even though from an objective standpoint not much exciting stuff happens (I mean canon-typical excitement like murders and spy missions). Sometimesiship has a way of describing emotion that is so raw -- she can portray the same emotion a dozen different ways with analogies and setups and dialogue and whatever -- and it still doesn't feel old. And the emotion that dominated the second half of the story was grief. Basically the grief of loving someone you know you're going to lose. Like being the spouse of a terminal cancer patient. I didn't cry while reading, but it was a closer call than I have had in a VERY long time. So much beauty and humanity in this story. And spoiler (?), it's a happy ending. So I hope you all go check it out!

That's a wrap! If you read this far, stay tuned for a Writer version of Fandom Wrapped 2024!

[olderthannetfic]

About parenting and hobbies:

One of my favourite things about SCA (Society of Creative Anachronism, basically history nerds) is that there's people of all ages and people also do the hobby as families. I'm still a student (and atm kinda struggling to take care of even myself, so no kids for me any time soon), and kind of new to the hobby, but it was delightful to chat with a pair of grandparents at my first event. At the same event there was a teeny baby who was also attending his very first event! There's also a lovely culture of carpooling to events around where I live, so I've gotten to know people through that, such as a mother-daughter pair who've been in the hobby as a family for over a decade now. At another event I got to know a woman who attends with her young granddaughter!

I don't know if I'll ever have kids of my own, but if I do, I'm looking forward to taking them with me to SCA events. There seems to be a lot of the same kind of communal "children of various ages hang out and play together while the adults mostly do their own stuff" thing going on that was a beloved several-times-a-year staple of my own childhood whenever my parents' big friend group got together.

--

Awww.

Though I do recall an older fangirl from one of my zoom chats talking about trying to start a childcare thing at her local SCA events and everyone sticking her with 100% of the supervision duties.

[kickthecan-revolution]

I had a major issue this morning with my long-term disability paycheck. It was less than a third of what I was expecting based on my conversations with the company and I was cutting it razor thin with what I was expecting.

In the past I would have absolutely lost my shit. I probably would have started yelling at people. I went outside, I took a deep breath and had a little talk with myself. “You are not poor and all alone, no one is trying to hurt you. No one is pulling the rug from underneath you. Those days are over. You don’t have to pawn anything, you don’t have to sell anything. That’s not your life anymore. You can figure this out, you just need to get some facts.”

I didn’t really believe any of that in my heart but fake it til you make it. I drank a big glass of water and then called the two companies involved. I spoke with the customer service reps respectfully. Asked a lot of questions, listened as carefully as I could. We finally got to an understanding - it’s a temporary fix until February but I’ll figure it out then.

I have some deep, irrational terror about being able to survive financially. I know it’s from watching my parents agonize and curl up into the fetal position for years over it, I never knew if we were ok or not. We were loved with money, it was the elixir of our parental relationships, almost the only thing we ever talked about. I never talk about it, my friends and family would consider it insane given I’m planning on retiring next year and I get it. (that is all locked up until next year). For them, it’s like Imelda Marcos worried about where her next pair of shoes is coming from (though I’m not quite that evil of a character). l feel uncomfortable writing about it here, I know people are struggling in real, not imagined ways but I use this as my journal so I’m going to keep doing that, as weird as it feels.

What I’m proud of is I didn’t lose my shit. I listened. I didn’t spiral, then rage. I was able to calm my mind and think a few things through, I didn’t immediately catastrophize. I worked *with* the people on the phone, they weren’t the enemy. They ended up being trustworthy. They helped.

This is big growth for me. To not expect others to hold my irrational fears at any level of engagement. The bigger healing is not feeling that trigger at all but I’ll get there. I will.

For now, I love you. I’m proud of you for not giving into your fear. You can take care of you, you have for such a long time.

[dood-itsradical]

Cool? Cool.

Pairing: Jake Kim x GN!Reader

Summary: An awkward rendezvous with Big Deal's leader.

Genre/Trope: Friends to enemies to friends to more(?). Non established relationship. Can be viewed as platonic as well.

Warnings: Cussing, self/oc indulgence? (I mostly wrote this for myself), no use of Y/n, MIGHT be OOC Jake (judge them yourself, this my first time writing for Lookism).

A/N: It's been TWO YEARS since I post fanfics so I might be lil stiffy, bare with me chat. I DON'T do request btw!

Masterlist

“Man, so what now? We just…went back to stop being allies?” You questioned bluntly.

It's been a few days since the Hunt for Gun event. Everything went back to how it was. Or some would say, for the better. You weren't exactly on any sides of the crew. Scratch that, you were one of the Workers. And to be fair, you sort of still carry that guilt. Like Samuel, you wanted- no, needed money. Again, scratch that, you aren't exactly like him, God bless. You just have responsibilities at home that need to be taken care of.

Because first of all, being a broke college student got you into this shit and you practically worked your ass for it. You just wanted to pay for your student loans, bills and groceries. Second of all, news flash, Korea ain't as great as influencers described them to be. When you first moved here, you were still expecting the struggles of the norm. Not fighting gangsters. Let alone joining one.

Thirdly, you know basic martial arts. You know what, fuck that. You're actually pretty decent at it. Sparring and training with these dudes around you, paid off. And through the journey you gained friendship, learning to understand different types of people. That includes multiple reality checks, unlocking new traumas as the list goes on. Part of you have thought of the alternatives and the what ifs. While the other half is actually grateful.

“It never has to be that way, you know?” Daniel replied, offering a soft smile.

You wanted to ask if the whole fighting and scheming thing is over, now that Charles Choi is gone. So is the matter of the Red Note. But you keep those questions to yourself, knowing it's far from done when Gun is still alive even if he's in juvie. Besides, he's not the only bad guy they need to watch out for.

You shrugged sheepishly, hands shoving into your pockets. “Right.” Your head turned to the ground for a bit. Daniel senses this and continues, “We're still friends, right?”

You looked up relieved by his words, “Of course. You're cool. You too, Jay.” You added. The blond gave you a big sincere smile as you bent down to pet the puppies. They equally ushered closer for attention. Your expression softened before exhaling.

“Hey.” You started, taking a second to collect your words. “You think Big Deal would diss the hell out of me if I go in their turf? I need to talk to Jake.”

Daniel shrugged back, giving his usual reassuring energy. “I don't think so, after everything. You want us to accompany you there?” You shake your head, mimicking his smile, “I'm good. Thanks though.”

It was by then you found yourself stepping in Big Deal’s street. You weren't a coward, but you still hold respect for each of Four Major Crews. If you are being honest, you didn't even belong here. You're just a person who was caught up with your own personal issues and was left with no options but to use physical violence for your own selfish gain. It wasn't selfish, you told yourself. You just have your own goal and achievement like everyone else.

You were immediately recognised and being semi interrogated by the other Big Deal members due to your sudden and random arrival. You kept your tone as calm as possible. Getting straight to the business and voila! There's Jake.

You muttered a thanks to Jerry before turning to your old friend. Ice breaking sucked, this everyone can relate. But man, you acted like an ex begging to get together with him again. “Sooo……”

You trailed awkwardly, eyes darting everywhere in the room except him. “Big Deal's boss doing paperworks, huh? Guess nobody escaping that.” You tried to humour him, to light up the mood, anything. And luckily, he stifled a chuckle. Or a subtle exhale, you counted it as that either way.

“Yeah, well, it's my responsibility now.” Jake replied, shifting in his chair while leaning back.

To put it simply, you and Jake aren't completely strangers. You two were somewhat colleagues, let's put it that way. You never dare ask about the friendship part. Are you two even friends? Buddies? Amigos?

I mean you're very much aware of Big Deal's history. Jake isn't so secretive, mind you. You've privately met Sinu himself before, good man. You're most definitely familiar with Samuel. And by God, you weren't very fond of him. But you didn't judge him either, and as mentioned, everyone here has a personal goal. You've managed to exchange conversation with him from time to time. If I may say so myself, a LOT. Boy, was he an interesting character.

When you first joined Workers, you were clueless. Eugene offered you good deals. Obviously you hesitated in the begining. You were no fool, you knew what you signed up for. Fortunately for you, you weren't involved too much. You did side jobs, mostly undercover. When Jake finds out, he confronts you. Which actually surprised you. You fought him. You fought everyone else while sticking to the white uniform. Although he can definitely tell you held back at that moment.

“No hard feelings, Jake.” You said back then before getting into stance. You took his hit many times, hardly using your full strength before discovering you were just buying him time to let others finish their business. And he didn't blame you either. He felt bad. Guilty even, that he couldn't offer you better hospitality, better support. And yes, he admits that he was kinda cold back then. He never gets the chance to apologize. But he does now as you basically presence yourself to him.

“You aight? You know, after all the…” You trailed, subtly recalling the recent fiasco. He blinked before nodding, “Just peachy. You?” You nodded back. “Yeah.”

As if it couldn't get any awkward, you were starting to regret showing your face here. On top of that, he wasn't any near being his suave self. He had it fine with the others but with you? There's an unfinished business. He thought it's odd. It's exactly the same scenario that happened between him and Samuel, yet the tension wasn't supposed to be this palpable as far as he know.

“I'm sorry-” You both said in sync, now looking at each other weirdly. Chuckling nervously, you both did it again, “You first. No, you. Not me, you. Fuck.”

Sighing, you both let out small genuine laughters. “No, seriously. You first.” he offered.

You nodded, “No hard feelings, right?”

He smiled, “No hard feelings. It's good to see you again.” You returned the smile, the burden finally left your shoulders. “Same here. You didn't break a bone. I'm not surprised.”

He leaned forward, folding his arms on the desk. His arms bulging through the fabric doesn't go unnoticed. “Well, colour me surprised. You didn't either.” He joked back. His mood has lifted as did yours. You rolled your shoulders, pretending to flex slightly. “I tried.”

“Say,” Your expression turned slightly serious, still with a bit of amusement in your tone. “I guess I owe you a jack of explanation, huh?”

He tilted his head, “Oh? Do you, now? Lemme check.” He pretended to go through his paperworks. You just chuckled, shaking your head at his sense of humour. “Asshole. I'm serious.”

Jake faced you again, “I know. And I'm listening. We can get food while we're at it.”

“Let me guess, my treat?” You raised a brow.

He gets off from his seat, his duty now left abandoned. “C’mon, I'm not a monster.” Slinging his arm around your shoulder as he leads you to the exit.

[n0vazsq]

Immortal | Hector Fort x Reader

pairing . . . hector fort x gf!reader

summary . . . Taking care of sick Hector was ....something, especially when he admits that he's not used to it

request . . . yes!! based on this request!

word count . . . 1.2k+

warnings . . . sick hector </3

faceclaim . . . N/A

alexavia yaps . . . i was thinking of myself nearly dead while i was sick so this is accurate yk yk <33 the coil thing was a physics spring extension refrence LMAO

taglist . . . @barcapix (lmk if you want to join the taglist!)

. . . Hector wasn’t one to admit weakness. Even as the slight shivers wrecked his body and his voice felt scratchy, he insisted it was just a cold. No big deal. But when his legs almost gave out from underneath him during training, you weren’t buying it.

You saw it coming. He’d been quieter than usual all morning, his focus slipping like sand through clenched fingers. His face, normally flushed with energy, was pale, eyes shadowed with tiredness.

Every movement looked like it took double the effort, as if he were wading through quicksand. Still, he pushed through drills, ignoring the sweat dripping down his face; not from exertion, but fever.

You’d been through it before, often being the one who caught whatever cold or virus was going around. Hector had taken care of you more times than you could count. Bringing you tea when you couldn’t get out of bed, forcing you to rest even when you fought it, making sure you didn’t try to push through things when you were running a fever.

You’d always felt guilty for relying on him so much, but he never seemed to mind. It was like he had a sixth sense when it came to taking care of you.

Now, the tables had turned.

When his knees wobbled and his balance faltered during a simple pass, you caught his arm, steadying him before he could hit the ground.

"You’re done for the day," you said firmly, staring into his glassy eyes.

He shot you a glare, more pout than protest. "I’m fine."

"No, you’re stubborn, not fine," you replied, not letting go. His skin was burning under your touch, like a fire barely contained. "Come on. You’re not staying out here."

He grumbled something incomprehensible under his breath, too exhausted to argue properly. You half dragged, half walked him back to the locker room, then down the quiet hall to his room. His steps were sluggish, his breathing shallow, each one a struggle like climbing a mountain. He leaned on you more than he probably realized.

Once inside, you guided him to sit on the edge of his bed. Before he could protest, you grabbed the nearest blanket and wrapped it around his shoulders. He tried to pull away, but even that took too much effort. He looked at you with soft, tired eyes, eyes that usually sparked with trouble or determination. Now, they were just worn.

"Don’t look at me like that," you teased, trying to lighten the mood.

"Like what?" he muttered, voice hoarse.

“Like you’re miserable.”

A weak laugh escaped him, more of a breath than a sound. "I’m not… miserable."

"No," you agreed, sitting down beside him. "Just bad at taking care of yourself."

He leaned back against the headboard, eyes half closed, as if the weight of the world rested on his eyelids. "Didn’t want to skip training.”

"You should’ve. You’re not going to impress anyone by collapsing on the field. You act like you're immortal."

His lips twitched into a small, almost invisible smirk. "Maybe I was trying to impress you."

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help but feel your heart beat faster and warmth spread through your chest, like the first rays of sunlight after a storm. "You’ve already done that. Now let me take care of you, for once."

He didn’t argue this time. The silence stretched, comfortable and heavy with unspoken words. You pressed the back of your hand to his forehead. "Hector, you’re burning."

He closed his eyes, leaning into your touch without meaning to. "It’ll pass."

You stood up, rummaging through his small stash of supplies. "You need water and something for the fever."

He barely reacted, too worn down by whatever virus had taken control. You found a bottle of water and some medicine, sitting back beside him. "Here. Drink."

He took the bottle without protest, sipping slowly. His hands trembled slightly, so you held them, steadying it for him.

"Thanks," he mumbled, voice softer now.

You watched him carefully. His usual walls were down, stripped away by exhaustion and fever. His eyes were dim, like a candle fighting against the wind, the warmth they once held barely a flicker now. He was vulnerable in a way you’d never seen before, and it hit you just how much he trusted you to see him like this.

"You don’t have to thank me," you said gently. "That’s what I'm here are for."

For a moment, there was silence. Then, in a voice almost too quiet to hear, he whispered, "I’m not… used to this."

"Being sick?"

"No. Letting someone… help."

Your heart clenched. You knew Hector was stubborn, but hearing him say it hit different. He was always the one others leaned on, never the other way around. Seeing him like this, letting himself lean on you, felt like something sacred.

"You don’t always have to be the strong one," you said softly. "It’s okay to need someone."

He didn’t respond, but his eyes met yours, something unspoken passing between you. Gratitude. Trust. Maybe something deeper.

You stayed with him as the afternoon wore on. The room was quiet, save for the soft hum of the air conditioner and his occasional, raspy coughs. You talked about everything and anything. Training issues, favorite matches, old stories that made him smile, even if just a little.

At some point, he drifted off, his head resting against your shoulder. His breathing evened out, the tension in his body easing, like a tightly coiled spring finally releasing. You stayed still, not wanting to wake him, even as your arm started to go numb.

As the room settled into a peaceful quiet, you couldn’t help but feel a shift in the air. You watched him for a moment, his exhaustion still evident, but there was something else, something unspoken between the two of you.

You leaned in slightly, your breath catching for a moment as you pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, your lips lingering just a little longer than you expected.

"I love you," you whispered, voice barely a breath against his skin.

His eyes fluttered open for a moment, meeting yours with something unreadable. You felt your heart race, unsure if he’d heard you or if the fever had made him too drowsy to respond. But before you could pull away, he reached up, his hand gently touching your cheek, his fingers warm despite the coldness of his fever.

"I love you too," he said, his voice quiet but sincere, like a promise in the stillness of the room. Then, with a soft exhale, he closed his eyes again, the weight of sleep finally taking over.

You smiled faintly, admiring his sleeping face. And then you couldn't help but brush your fingers through his hair, exhaling slightly. Hector leaned into your touch, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

Slowly, you shifted and kissed his temple, then rested your head on top of his. His hand found yours, even when he was asleep, as if it was reflex. You squeezed it once, reassuring him that you were still there.

When he woke up a while later, he looked better, still tired, but more himself. "You stayed?"

"Of course I did."

He looked at you for a long moment, something soft and unguarded in his gaze. "Thank you."

And this time, you knew he didn’t just mean for the water or the blanket.

He meant for being there. For seeing him. For staying. For loving him like no one else did.

[plurapony]

anti-psychs are fucking idiots

and i find it really REALLY hard to believe that they're mentally ill because anyone i know who is mentally ill would do absolutely anything to get better and there's no better solution than psychiatric care.

Don't get me wrong, society is absolutely fucked and that involves psychiatric care. Even in Australia it's not affordable (I pay way too much for mine) and it's not easily accessible either. There ARE problems but the problems are within the industry not the industry itself.

Let's talk about delusions and psychosis for a moment. They are absolutely fucking terrifying and every second you want them to end. I remember I couldn't walk a 5 minute walk back home because I was too overwhelmed with fear so I waited for what felt like hours sitting in the sun praying my wife would find me and take me back home.

I didn't like being involuntarily admitted due to my psychosis and I sure as hell didn't like the antipsychotics they put me on. It was hell but what I had been through was worse and I just wanted to be okay. I don't blame my wife for helping me be involuntarily committed because psychosis is scary for the people that love you too and I was making serious threats about hurting myself. She was only one person and I wasn't sleeping, she couldn't possibly keep me safe alone.

With everything, you take the good with the bad. In the psych ward I had met a nice older man named Carlos who got thrown in the psych ward by his mother every time he got too annoying. He didn't deserve to be there and he didn't deserve to be stripped of his choice and his rights.

To have constructive conversation and to fight for change there must be nuance involved. Fighting for an absolute while demonizing your opposition is going to get you absolutely nowhere.

By fighting to get rid of psychiatric facilities and psych wards you're not doing anything to the people that run society. Do you really think some rich white man who has it all is gonna give a single shit if therapy exists or not? You're only hurting those who need the service, the mentally ill that are struggling and desperately wanting to get better.

So fight for accessible therapy, fight for affordable therapy, fight for patients right to choose whether they are admitted to psych wards or not. Fight for better psychiatric care don't fight for no psychiatric care.

[IMAGE ID: ponyville is a (pro) endo free zone break dni and get blocked loser! END ID]

[angel-dustspo]

Reasons why I want to change my relationship with food:

I am constantly exhausted and feel dizzy and weak all the time

My body is unhealthy and undernourished

My brain cannot function properly with so little c@lories

People always ask if I'm hungry and worry about me

The guilt after eating is insane.

Hiding my ed is so difficult

I have not seen any positive changes in my body and no results whatsoever

I always over exercise and feel so miserable about it

I have lost so much of my muscle mass and just am overall so weak

I have missed out on so many ocasions to hang out and have fun

I miss food and sweets, and I miss eating without any guilt at all

St@rving cannot sustain fat loss, NEVER AND EVER

I am worth more than the number on the scale

Life is worth living, and this is NOT the way I want to live it.

I believe that life is a gift and it's about enjoying and cherishing every little moment we have. The way I have been wasting it worrying about things as looks and destroying my health is so sad and I'm so sorry that I've ever done this to myself. It has gained me NOTHING, my physical appearance did NOT change or maybe I got even fatter since my methabolism crashed, but my mental health is TEN TIMES WORSE. Losing weight should not be about who can hold on longer on 700 c@ls a day or who can hate themselves more everyday. I deserve to be happy and enjoy my one and only chance at life that I've been given, and not feel such emotions about the fuel of the body.

For everyone out there that is struggling, I know how comforting being burried deep in your ed is. I know you don't want/can't break the pattern, but please, try and find ways to do so. It took me years to understand how the body works and that it's not only about c@ls in vs c@ls out, not about this green juice or that 1000 c@l deficit. Please, stop surrounding yourself with media that makes it worse. You don't even have to change anything besides the types of media you consume. Change your mentality or let someone else change it, even if you dont even want recovery. E@ting disorders should not be romanticised, although I know how good and "right" it feels. I'll post soon a list of helpful media/youtube videos that completely changed my mentality and made me turn 180 degrees around, and they might help you too. In the meantime, please take care of yourselves and please actually enjoy your lives, you deserve it!! xoxo

[a-queer-sub-baby-2]

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[ask-spiderpool]

Dear mod. I just wanted to ask how you're doing atm? Are you eating good food and sleeping well?

Oh bless you, anon! Regrettably, neither of those things, no. My appetite has been very poor since my surgery, and I'm more than a little sleep deprived with all the jobs I'm juggling at the moment - buuut... I'm alive. My head is good. My work is good. Always manage to make everyone happy, oh, yes sir, but can't wait to pass out for a whole day and then hang out with some friends. It'll heal me.

[maggot-baggage]

That job called me back to say they accepted me but yet again the pay rate wasn't what they had listed, and I could tell the manager talking to me knew that too bc she kept trying to tiptoe around it. If your company site says 14/hr for a part time position as the *starting base pay*, don't tell me it's actually 9-10/hr and then move on! "Well pay raises and promotions are possible!" Im not gonna wait til ive worked 2 years for a $2.50 pay raise, ESPECIALLY when you're fightin so hard to talk about anything but that! That's not the pay I discussed with the store owners and the shit you're offering me would only stretch so far like cmon

[freakwiththeknifecollection]

"Fuck you, my child is fine!" your child is doing her annual rewatch of Veronica Mars and Freaks and Geeks simultaneously

[la-galaxie-langblr]

what is going on w my brain

[princessmyriad]

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